


Story Time

by MonsterBrush



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers from the books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterBrush/pseuds/MonsterBrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie invites Jack to a campout in his backyard. No camping adventure is complete without scary stories, and no one tells scary stories quite like the Bogeyman.</p><p>In the end, Sophie is the wisest of them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Story Time

**Author's Note:**

> So I was out walking my dogs when all of a sudden I stepped in a hot steaming pile of inspiration. I've read one or two fics about the kids going camping, but not once has Pitch ever been included, when as we all know telling ghost stories is a sacred tradition in camping! So I guess that's where this came from.
> 
> I used what I know from the books to be canon, made a little "Schrodinger's cat" debate, and played with the movie!verse a little. Enjoy~

Jamie and all of his friends were camping in Jamie’s backyard. And boy had they gone all-out. Two sizable tents had been set up, fully stocked with inflated air mattresses, pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags. There was even a fire ring built into the ground for a serious camping experience. It was a kids-only affair, so no parents allowed, and not even the hot summer night had been enough to keep Jack Frost away. Jamie had invited him after all, and he’d even been considerate enough to set out a large cooler of ice for Jack to sit in to keep himself—and their drinks—cool.

They’d started the evening with pizza, games, and snacks, and as the sun went down s’mores were made. Considering it was Jack’s first time, they gave him the honor of toasting the first marshmallow, which turned out better than he thought it would. He didn’t burn it, astonishingly enough.

It had been Claude and Caleb’s idea to tell spooky stories, and the kids tossed around a few of the typical ones for a little while. Jack even had a go at it, and told an admittedly not-so-spooky story about what he remembered when he had been human. None of the stories were particularly spooky. Not really. All it took was one offhand comment of “You know who’d be great at this? The Bogeyman.” And suddenly all of them were clamoring for the idea. Hell even Jack had been excited. Pitch was the _Bogeyman_. The guy probably did this sort of thing for giggles. All Jack needed to do was convince him.

“Come on, Pitch!” Jack begged for what must have been the hundredth time, not that he was counting.

“No.”

“Just one story! One story and I swear I’ll leave you alone forever!” Jack promised, scanning the surrounding trees for a familiar silhouette.

“I highly doubt that. I am not some mongrel to be called to the table for scraps. Especially not by you and your gangly band of runny nosed brats!” Pitch spat back harshly. Jack didn’t need to see the acid falling from the man’s lips to know it was there.

“Oh come on! Just this once? In the name of fear and all things evil?” Jack beseeched, unafraid of the shadowy figure that rose from the ground like a rearing cobra, as imposing as the trees around him.

“No.”

“But it’s a _campout_ Pitch! You have to! It’s tradition to tell scary stories when you’re out camping, and no one does scary like the Bogeyman. Please, Pitch? _Please?!”_ Jack was beginning to consider getting on his knees to beg at that point, but—thank MiM—something he’d said seemed to strike a chord with Pitch

“You would have me, of all spirits, deliberately frighten your precious believers?” There was something unnerving about the way he said “precious”.

“It’s tradition, Pitch. I can’t argue with tradition,” Jack replied with his most casual shrug.

“Mm,” Pitch hummed contemplatively, and Jack frowned.

“If you don’t do it, I’ll tell the kids you got stage fright and chickened out,” He threatened bluntly. If there was one thing he knew about Pitch, it was that he hated when someone messed with his reputation. It was a risky maneuver, but Jack loved to take risks. The hum turned into a rumbling growl.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wanna bet I would? I _know_ how to play dirty, Pitch. I learned from the best, remember?” Jack said teasingly, leaning on his staff as he smirked at Pitch smugly. He knew when he’d won.

“Fine! They want a story? I’ll give your stupid brats a story,” Pitch growled, striding reluctantly from the tree cover, angling a glare at the thin sliver of moon suspended in the sky above their heads. Jack had to conceal an exuberant fist-pump as he jumped onto the wind.

“Great! I’ll fly ahead and let them know that you’re coming. And remember, keep it G-rated,” Jack called over his shoulder as he flew back to Jamie’s house.

When he returned Jack saw the twins dragging their sleeping bags onto the grass while Pippa and Jamie rearranged the chairs into a half circle around the fire, facing towards the house. Cupcake was walking out of the house with a hyperactive Sophie, both carrying armfuls of extra snacks for everyone.

“Good news guys! Looks like you’ll be getting a special performance by the Bogeyman tonight!” Jack announced as he landed. The way Jamie’s face lit up was as exhilarating as being seen.

“Wow really?!” Jamie exclaimed, beaming in awe at Jack.

“Oh yes. Really,” Pitch drawled, walking out from behind one of the tents primly, his hands clasped behind his back. “How could I resist such a succulent feast of fresh children?” He fixed Jack with a murderous glare before scanning the area meticulously. Monty ducked skittishly behind Pippa who waved shyly when Pitch glanced over them. Claude dragged his brother—sleeping bag and all—out from underfoot hastily when Pitch walked past to prowl the half circle of chairs that Jamie and his friends had set up.

“Mr. Bogey!” Sophie shrieked, promptly dropping her armful of snacks for Jamie to gather as his little sister took off to hide in one of the tents. “Mr. Bogey! Mr. Bogey! Mr-oof!” she tripped over Pitch’s trailing robe and face planted into the grass.

“It’s good to see you again, Pitch,” Jamie greeted with surprising tact as he retrieved his errant sibling expertly, helping her brush grass out of her tangled hair. Pitch nodded stiffly in return.

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” He replied sardonically, rolling his eyes at Sophie’s quiet whimpers of the “scary tall man”. Jack grinned, satisfied with how things were proceeding as he wedged himself into the cooler with the crunch of ice and wiggled an appropriate dent into the ice cubes that had been dumped into it.

“Sure is. Not everybody can say they’ve been told a spooky story by the Bogeyman,” He agreed, reaching under himself to dredge up a coca cola that had been digging into his rear uncomfortably. The praise seemed to stoke Pitch’s ego enough that the sourness in his expression lightened. He flashed Jack a grin that was more bared teeth than anything.

“That’s right. And I have a _very_ _special_ story in mind,” He sneered, walking around behind the chairs as everyone scrambled for their seats. Jamie sat down next to Jack and pulled Sophie into his lap, wrapping them both in a thick blanket covered in snowflake patterns that made Jack’s heart leap whenever he saw it.

“Remember, Pitch. G-rated,” Jack warned, pointing exaggeratedly with both hands at Sophie, who had taken to hiding her face in her knees, so Pitch would understand. “No gore, alright? And don’t be too weird.”

Pitch scoffed and rolled his eyes in distain. “As if that were all there was to a proper story,” He snorted, stopping at last in the empty space that had been cleared for him with his back to the house.

The fire cast eerie shadows over his gaunt face, his eyes glowing from abnormally deep sockets as his dark outline stretched and grew over the bare side of the house unnaturally. It was as though a switch had been flipped, silencing the rest of the world, save for the crackle of burning wood and the soft shuffle of fabric as everyone settled in their blankets and turned their eyes to Pitch.

“Once upon a time-“

“Hold up. Once upon a time? Really? That’s how you’re gonna start this?” Jack protested, frowning. The glare Pitch sent him was nearly fatal and Jack decided to trust Pitch’s judgment and clamp his mouth shut.

“Once upon a time, a long, _long_ time ago, there lived a man,” Pitch began in a deep, velvety voice, and when Jack blinked the shadow he cast on the side of the house had changed. Now, the silhouette of a broad shouldered man stood in Pitch’s place. Jack watched the shadow raise a sword in the air as Pitch mimicked fostering his own imaginary weapon.

“He was a mighty hero, a general, with armor that glowed like the sun and a ship that sailed through the stars, in an age of gold and light.” Pitch’s voice richened with an infectious passion, his eyes glittering. The shadows changed, coiling tendrils reaching not only from Pitch’s shadow but also from the edges of the firelight, gathering like a mass of snakes on the wall.

“The good general was loved by all, for he was the strongest and the bravest man alive, the mightiest warrior in the face of _the darkness_.” Pitch hunched, clenching his fist as his persona twisted on the last word. His shadow warped into a writhing mass of spidery hands and gaping faces, silently screaming and flailing.

With a sweep of his arm he straightened again as the shadowy mass seemed to be blasted apart from within. The familiar shape of the General emerged from the collapsing husk of limbs and Pitch reclaimed the heroic identity.

“He fought the evil. Again and again he fought it. And he swore an oath to his Tsar that he would not rest until the evil was vanquished. For the Good General was not alone. He had his beloved wife, and his dearest daughter, and he loved them both more than anything in the entire galaxy! His wife was his darling sun, and his daughter- his precious star shine.” Pitch spread his arms, his voice lifting with a joy Jack never heard from him before. A second and shadow joined the one on the wall, slimmer and feminine, followed by a third, the smallest of all, which the General hoisted up into his arms as he embraced the second.

“There was nothing he would not do, to keep them safe and happy. So he chased the evil through the stars, rounded them up for his family and his Tsar, confident that he could keep that darkness at bay. Until… disaster struck.” Jack’s stomach twisted as the night suddenly darkened with Pitch’s drop in tone. The fire never dimmed but its light seemed to reach less and less, and the shadows seemed to get darker, and closer as Pitch loomed over them. Behind his back the General had disappeared and the shadow of the woman was standing protectively over the smallest shadow as though to protect it from the advancing darkness. The silence rang like a scream as the two silhouettes were speared by long spikes of shadow and engulfed. In their place the General’s shape appeared, head turning searchingly.

“The Good General returned home, expecting for his daughter to jump into his arms, for his wife to greet him with a kiss, but the house was empty and the walls were covered in blood.” Pitch’s voice grew weaker and weaker, and Jack watched the General’s shadow stagger and raise his hands to his face as though he were ill. By now even Sophie had raised her head to watch, coaxed from the blanket by Pitch’s velvety voice but too young to really understand what was being said.

“His wife had fallen to her death as the darkness pursued her-oh how she must have screamed! And as for his daughter?” Pitch’s voice shook with barely controlled emotion, his body contorting and trembling in the throes of grief, as though he were the one mimicking the shadow, rather than the shadow mimicking him. His voice dropped to a breathy whisper and everyone leaned in to hear.

“There hadn’t even been a body left to bury,” He hissed, but there was pain in his eyes and his voice was raw with dismay, as though he couldn’t believe it himself that anything could be so cruel. The General on the wall collapsed.

Pitch straightened slowly and the General rose with him, tall and proud, but weary, the shoulders bowed tiredly, and Jack was amazed by how well Pitch copied the action. Or was the shadow copying Pitch? It was impossible to discern.

“But his story doesn’t end there. Oh no, the Good General could never fall so easily,” Pitch assured them, as though that had been their biggest concern. Behind him small scraps of shadow tore free from the edge of the firelight and hurled themselves at the General. The General whirled and sliced with his sword while Pitch simply stood, and continued to speak.

“He fought the darkness, again and again. For years he fought, and for years a mighty prison was slowly filled with all the evil beings that ever dared to threaten what he had failed to protect. In the end, who else was fit to guard this prison? This cage?” Pitch’s eyes swept over them searchingly, as though silently asking them for the answer while his shadow stood at attention behind him. The General bowed his head as though he was addressing a king, and Jack could actually see the silhouette’s chest expand as it heaved a heavy sigh and started to pace.

“For years he kept his post, confident that the Tsar would relieve him when they were ready to put the darkness to rest. And for years longer still he waited… And waited… And waited…” Pitch was smirking but his eyes were empty and mirthless as he followed his shadow’s patrol back and forth, like a warden making his rounds.

“He waited, and all that time the shadows whispered to him. Threats, promises, pleas-oh the things they said! But nothing could sway the Good General’s faith. Until, one day, the shadows came up with a new plan. A plan that was guaranteed success.” Pitch’s smile split his face like a razor blade only twice as sharp. In the flickering light of the fire the movements of the flames caught in his eyes making them flash even without his having to move them as both he and his shadow stopped pacing. “After all, how could he resist his beautiful little star shine? Inside the great prison, he heard her.”

Both Pitch and the shadow stiffened as though listening to something only they could hear, and the two whirled around as one to stare in horror at something out of sight. The look on his face was convincing enough for a few of his captivated audience to lean out of their seats to follow his gaze into the dark bushes. Jack looked back just in time to see the manic glint in Pitch’s eye as he opened his mouth…

And _screamed_.

“ _Daddy! Help me Daddy! Please! Why won’t you help me?!_ ” Pitch cried in a high falsetto at the top of his lungs, hugging himself and thrashing with the distress of the character he’d chosen to portray. The shadow on the wall responded accordingly, backing away from Pitch in apparent surprise before covering its ears with both hands and cringing. The volume had been one thing, but what really sent chills racing down Jack’s spine was the fact that it wasn’t just Pitch’s voice he heard. From the blackness in Pitch’s throat a second voice was screaming, higher and thinner than Pitch’s, like the cry of a little girl, just loud enough for Jack’s ears to catch. Pitch imitated it mockingly, his mouth almost a grin, and his eyes alight with a feverish kind of urgency that his shadow pronounced as its attempts to block out the sound grew more desperate. It was more than enough for Jack to wish he had a blanket of his own to hide in.

“ _They’re hurting me, Daddy! Please make them stop! It hurts, Daddy! Please LET ME OUT!”_ Pitch sucked in a deep breath after that final screech, understandably winded. He fixed his listeners with a surprisingly calm expression as his breathing leveled, completely at odds with the way he’d keened and cried just moments ago with the voice of a little girl sharing his throat.

“And do you want to know what our Good General did then?” he asked in a soft voice, his eyes wide in false earnest, thankfully expecting no answer. He leaned forward over the fire as his shadow ran for the edge of the light like a madman and began struggling with something just out of sight.

“He opened the door.”

The General fell back as the shadowy silhouette of a cage door swung open in his hands and a wave of darkness overtook everything. The house, the tents, the backyard, the sky, everything beyond a few inches of the chairs was complete and utter darkness and the twins were quick to pull their feet up out of their sleeping bags when those trailed into the dark as well. Again the silence rang with echoing cries that lurked just beyond Jack’s hearing, even the fire was quiet, as though to allow more of the not-screams reach their ears.

For a little while they all stared in fear at the blackness, and just as a wobbly whine started to rise from Sophie’s lips Pitch’s voice drew their attention back.

“Ten thousand beings of evil so pure they could darken even the brightest light burst forth from the cage and consumed him.” His voice was low and his eyes were dim as he gazed into the fire before him like he could see the scene take place in those dancing flames. Behind him snatches of light tore through the darkness, revealing the wall of Jamie’s house, but the knowledge that it was still there was hardly a comfort as in the snatches of light dark shapes were flung in and out of sight. An arm here, a leg there, a splatter of something intangible, the convulsing shape of a man being stretched and broken as something moved beneath his skin.

“They tore his body apart from the inside, over and over and over. And they rebuilt his body again and again and again, and when at last the Good General stood do you want to know what he said?” Pitch asked innocently as the wall returned to view, dominated by a hulking silhouette whose head nearly touched the roof, frightfully still in spite of the way the light flickered. Jack could see Sophie shaking her head frantically in Jamie’s arms, tiny hands squeezing the blanket tight around her. Pitch smiled lazily and his eyes _glowed_. Jack blinked and suddenly everything was completely dark, devoured by the shadow on the wall. Not even the fire could be seen, and the only thing anchoring him was the feeling of the cooler under him and the staff in his hands.

“ _I am the pitch black between the stars,_ ” Pitch’s voice hissed, practically a centimeter from Jack’s ear, so close Jack could feel Pitch’s breath ghosting over his skin. Before he could even react his surroundings slowly faded back into view as the dark receded. Pitch was standing where he’d begun the story, the wall of the house behind him just as ordinary as it had always been, not a flicker of unnatural dark to be seen.

Jack sat up in the cooler quickly, blinking away the spots in his eyes as he checked on the kids.

Cupcake had been clutching the edge of her seat with an iron grip and was only now beginning to pry her fingers away. Monty was digging through his jacket pockets in search of something—his inhaler—as beside him Pippa pushed her lucky hat up from where she had dragged it down to cover her eyes. The twins were untangling themselves from a very complex hug as they fruitlessly tried to restore order to their twisted sleeping bags. Jamie was still gasping in shock at the unexpected darkness, his sister forgotten for the time being as he recovered from the story. Sophie shook in Jamie’s lap, huddled into a tight ball and so subdued that Jack found it difficult to believe that only minutes ago she hadn’t been able to sit still. 

Jack whipped his head around to glare at Pitch accusingly, only to find him no longer standing behind the fire. He turned at the sound of plastic crumpling and found the Bogeyman plucking a marshmallow from the bag on the snack table and cheerfully impaling it on a skewer, and continued to glare as he dragged an empty chair back over to the fire.

“Don’t give me that look, Frost. You asked for a scary story, I delivered,” Pitch said at last, breaking the heavy silence that followed his story as he sat down and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his knees to hold the skewer over the fire. Jack sputtered in disbelief as the first bubbling sob floated up from Sophie’s huddled figure.

“I also said keep it G-rated! You made Sophie cry!”

“I make lots of children cry, Jack. It was a scary story from the Bogeyman, what did you expect? I even omitted the gore for you,” Pitch drawled, withdrawing his marshmallow to prod at it critically before returning it to the flames, rotating the skewer like he was roasting meat on a spit. While Jack couldn’t exactly argue with that, Sophie was slowly starting to wail and when kids cried like that not even his magic could help.

“Okay fine, but the shadows were a bit much, don’t you think?” Jack insisted irritably, crossing his arms.

“Nonsense! They added to the story and helped establish the theme,” Pitch defended airily as Jamie bounced Sophie on his knee.

“The shadows were pretty cool, Jack…” Jamie admitted sheepishly over the sound of his sister’s cries. Pitch waved his hand appreciatively in Jamie’s direction without looking up from his marshmallow.

“Well, that bit towards the end was pretty scary, but I liked them too,” Pippa agreed, still adjusting her hat. Pitch gave Jack a smug grin.

“The screaming was a good touch,” Caleb said as he grabbed a bag of chips from the table. “Very dramatic.” His brother added approvingly.

“I thought the screaming was the worst part. I nearly had a heart attack!” Cupcake protested, scowling at Pitch.

“I agree with Cupcake,” Monty supplied weakly, his chin sinking into the puffy jacket he wore.

“Alright, alright don’t get carried away. This guy’s ego doesn’t need anymore feeding,” Jack interrupted, reaching over to pet Sophie comfortingly, frowning at the whine he received. “If this gives Sophie nightmares I’m telling Sandy,” He added seriously.

“And I’m telling Sandy that you were the one who made me give them a story in the first place. Did you honestly think a little censorship could stop me from instilling fright in children?” Pitch countered dully as he lifted the marshmallow to his face to examine. Unsatisfied, he returned it to its slow roast over the fire.

“It was kind of a sad story, don’t you think? More of a tragedy really,” Pippa said hesitantly. Pitch frowned at her.

“Not all stories end happily, and only fools go looking for a fairy tale ending in every story they hear. Are you a fool, girl?” He demanded sternly.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a happy ending,” Jamie defended as Sophie slowly calmed down. “What happens next?”

“Excuse me?” Pitch raised an eyebrow at Jamie disbelievingly.

“What happens after the General got attacked?” Cupcake elaborated a bit impatiently.

“What happens? The General _died,_ my dear girl. Or did you miss that part?” Pitch replied incredulously.

“No, I’m pretty sure he was still alive. At the end he was all ‘I am the dark between stars’ or something. Sounds alive to me,” Cupcake argued, unfazed by the indignant glare Pitch gave her.

“Hold up, how do we know it wasn’t the darkness from the prison at the end? If they could whisper stuff they could have been the ones at the end. Maybe they possessed his body or something freaky like that?” Claude offered. Pitch nodded admiringly.

“A very likely possibility,” He agreed, to Jack’s distaste.

“Wait, wait, wait. That could have happened sure but we still don’t know if the General _died,_ ” Jack challenged, crossing his arms as he joined the debate.

“Jack’s right. The General could have survived. Just because they took over his body doesn’t mean they got rid of him,” Jamie said confidently. Pitch scowled at them both.

“Of course _you’d_ think that. Bloody optimists,” He grumbled. “Very well. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, the Good General _did_ survive. What kind of torture would he be subject to? Would he wish he had died rather than watch, trapped in his own mind, as the darkness controlled his body? The same darkness that killed his beloved wife and precious daughter? The same darkness he spent his life imprisoning? Would any of you really wish that on a person?” Pitch inquired softly, spinning his marshmallow idly as he propped his chin up on his other arm. The group fell silent.

“What if…” Monty began, so quietly he was almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire. “What if it wasn’t forever? Like the General could still come back? What then?” He suggested shyly. Jamie’s face lightened at the idea.

“What proof do you have that this could be true? How do you know he wouldn’t return a madman?” Pitch pressed, narrowing his eyes. Monty’s face turned pink under the Bogeyman’s gaze, looking quite regretful that he had even said anything. Luckily Jamie jumped to the rescue.

“He was strong,” Jamie reminded Pitch brightly. “You said that yourself. He was the bravest man alive. If anyone could come back after that, it’d be him, don’t you think?”

“I imagine that’s what he thought before his family was lost. Or before he’d been sent to guard the prison. But if he had been so strong, why was he so weak as to open the door?” Pitch mused thoughtfully, almost as though he were speaking to himself.

“He had to, didn’t he? His kid was in there. Or… he thought she was… Wait was she actually in the cage?” Caleb asked worriedly, looking distraught by the implications.

Pitch sighed quietly. “No idea,” He answered after a moment. “In all likelihood it had been a trap from the very beginning. His daughter died along with her mother, and the darkness used his lingering sentiment to trick him into opening the cage. Like a fool.”

“Just because he loved his daughter doesn’t mean he was a fool. In the beginning, wasn’t he so strong because he had his family?” Jack pointed out, feeling something in his stomach twist at Pitch’s cold words.

“A mother bear is a thing to fear, but so too is a cornered rat. Fighting for something worth protecting and fighting because you have nothing left to loose. They’re both the same in the end. And that was how it was for the Good General. In the beginning he fought for his family, and in the end he fought because he had nothing left to loose,” Pitch growled lowly, glaring at the half of his marshmallow that refused to be toasted evenly. Jack huffed in frustration.

“Geez you’re depressing…”

“It comes with the territory. Give yourself a few thousand years, see if you’re not the same,” Pitch sniffed dismissively, twirling his skewer. With the conversation seemingly at an end, Jamie stood up with a now exhausted Sophie.

“Alright, I’m putting Soph to bed. I’ll be right back,” Jamie announced, pausing when Sophie started to worm her way out of his arms, pointing drowsily at the ground. Bewildered, Jamie set her down and watched in surprise as she teetered off on a determined—albeit crooked—path for the Bogeyman. Without the slightest preamble she grabbed his arm and hauled herself up into his lap. Jack almost let out an ‘aw’ as Sophie wrapped her arms around Pitch’s neck and hugged him tightly.

“Sowwy ‘bout your family…” She mumbled into his neck sleepily as Jamie awkwardly stepped up to help Pitch pry the mostly unconscious toddler from him. Pitch looked like he’d been slapped in the face.

“It was just a story Soph. Sorry Pitch,” Jamie grunted as he removed his sister’s grip. Jack had to cover his mouth with both hands to keep from laughing.

“You may want to have your sister examined if she thinks hugging the Bogeyman before bed is a good idea,” Pitch replied in a rough voice, staring at Sophie until both she and her brother had disappeared inside the house.

“…Uh, Pitch? Your marshmallow is burning.”

“ _Shit_.” 


End file.
